Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
Arid on his crown, he picks up the brush with his guitar fingers. Blue now, the mane keeps growing, or could it be the skin drying out?
with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Recently you saw a wild plant growing on her grave.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Squandered. To veil the veiled. Who or what takes charge of what was never developed?
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Recently you saw a wild plant growing on her grave.
You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.
Arid on his crown, he picks up the brush with his guitar fingers. Blue now, the mane keeps growing, or could it be the skin drying out?
with golden threads
death
doesn’t sprawl out on the couch
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Squandered. To veil the veiled. Who or what takes charge of what was never developed?
[it’s real when they say it]
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
Nothing is enough for the royalty of a ghost.
A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Recently you saw a wild plant growing on her grave.
Arid on his crown, he picks up the brush with his guitar fingers. Blue now, the mane keeps growing, or could it be the skin drying out?
[it’s real when they say it]
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Squandered. To veil the veiled. Who or what takes charge of what was never developed?
“he’s not home”
“do you know where he went?”
“to herd none of his sheep”
A subtle glimmer in the jasmine. A word,
its texture.
You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
returning to the garden in the evening
shouting ready or not
and waiting twenty years to say
olly olly oxen free
Nothing is enough for the royalty of a ghost.
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
Arid on his crown, he picks up the brush with his guitar fingers. Blue now, the mane keeps growing, or could it be the skin drying out?
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Squandered. To veil the veiled. Who or what takes charge of what was never developed?
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
Recently you saw a wild plant growing on her grave.
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
[it’s real when they say it]
You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.
Arid on his crown, he picks up the brush with his guitar fingers. Blue now, the mane keeps growing, or could it be the skin drying out?
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
“No one’s going to find you here if you don’t make noise, not even the one you make when you suck in your boogers.”
Simple: naïve / milkweed / that which only seeks to tend its own garden / look at him all cool as a cucumber, and what have you gotten yourself into, little creature?
You longed to be like her, whinnying in the storm, swimming the seas of the continent.
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
Arid on his crown, he picks up the brush with his guitar fingers. Blue now, the mane keeps growing, or could it be the skin drying out?
Boar: Foolish person / a creature easily tricked. Puer: scarce / timid / aesternus. Puerile: shame / excess humility. Child: kid / tot / ankle-biter. Pipsqueak: cheerful rug rat with wide eyes, as if startled. Little one: sleepless.
“Where does this blooming come from?”
From time.
“No. From your need to relive what you don’t even remember”.
But they recognize you,
The violin of every song,
You hear golden ovations from the dressing room.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Recently you saw a wild plant growing on her grave.
[it’s real when they say it]
There are the pigeons, fluttering. End of the minute. Silence. Hundreds of pigeons fly at me, shit on you.
Squandered. To veil the veiled. Who or what takes charge of what was never developed?
visualize the voice of thought.
think the image of the voice.
provoke destiny. play.
from chance, from the sigh.
understand the force that links
the image to the name.
the name is an image.
the image is a verb.
play. nothing is chance.
destiny is a game.
everything is destiny.
—